Future postings can be found at the "news" page on our Web site www.alohaleader.com. Please visit us there for great videos, photos, testimonials and the very latest on Aloha Leadership workshops, keynotes and coaching.

Kids and Homework

I'll admit, I'm baffled by much of the math homework that my 10-year old son Nick brings home from fifth grade. Thank goodness the teachers post an "answer key" along with tips on problem solving on the school's Web site. My last math class was during my junior year in high school, around the time the dinosaurs died off. What I think I recall from high school is some basic algebra and that a black bunny and a white bunny will have four "bunettes", one black, one white, and two white/black combinations. If I'm wrong, may Einstein have mercy on my soul.

More challenging initially than the homework itself, was getting both Nick and his younger brother Chris to dedicate time to complete their assignments. Terry and I have come to agree that setting aside a specific window for the boys, where all four of us are dedicated to their homework, has helped avoid potential battles.

The kids come home and immediately head for a snack. After a long day at school, just like an adult coming home from work, the last thing they want to do...is more work. After dinner, and before any dessert, the boys bring their homework to the table and plug away, number "two" pencils in hand. This gives their parents a chance to wash dishes, talk a bit about our days, and be available to answer any questions that come up. Or rush to the computer for the answer key!

Having a set time for tasks like homework or music practice means the kids have no surprises, and are able to understand that their commitments require attention. It occurs to me now that my work day goes much smoother when I keep to a regular schedule. Maybe it's not too late to learn something from fifth grade!

Dads and Kids: How To Harness Their Creativity and Energy

Waiting for inspiration as a writer is like a kid waiting for the first snow of winter. They peek out the window looking for a cloud, a flake, any indication that a blizzard is around the corner. You can hope, pray and perform native dances to induce the gods to visit, and deny that you have no control over the situation. Fact is, a writer controls their "block" as much as any of us control the weather. The nice thing about that first snow, and the inspiration to write, is that they both eventually come (depending on the climate) in bunches and they both leave you snowed under.

My kids are the source of so much creative energy that sometimes they lead my business astray. For awhile, I wanted to write children's books. Then I wanted to teach elementary school. A phase passed in which I wanted to base my business on speaking about kids and their Dads. Their wonder and energy is contagious; like Superman, I need to learn to harness that power for good!

The boys asked for a chain saw this past weekend. "What for?" I inquired. Turns out they "need" a tree fort, and a friend at school advised them that a chain saw is a needed accessory to any building project. "Tell you what. When you guys are adults and move out of the house, you can buy your own chain saw. Until then, no chain saw." They were crushed. For about two minutes. Then Nick's (the 10 year old) face brightened. "Chris, when we get a chain saw, we can build a house and live in a tree in the backyard!"

I'm glad they'll be moving out. And I'm glad they're planning on staying close to home.

Fight writer's block, or any creative block, by diving in and seeing where your journey takes you. "Control" isn't nearly as important as we adults make it out to be. Sometimes, you just need the right tools, an optimistic outlook, and a tree to build your dreams in.

Dad - The New "Satan"?

Eight-year old Chris called me "Satan" the other day. It's hard to interpret that for any audience, but my sense is that he believed at the moment that the Devil and me were pretty much interchangable. My "sin" as far as I can ascertain, is that I wouldn't let him (Chris, not the Devil) wwatch YouTube on the computer past 9pm.

Being a parent is like riding a rollercoaster. One minute you're the shining star of your child's life, the next minute you're Mussolini, only without the captive audience. My wife Terry has a good approach to the changing fortunes of parenting, never getting too high or too low. I wish I could adopt that stance for myself, but when Chris lashed out I took his words to bed with me and felt like a real failure as a father.

What saved me was remembering some of the hateful things that I said, or imagined I said, to my own father. The world of a child is centered on self, and that world revolves around their wants and needs. Not having computer time in 2010 is a lot like being called in off the playground while the sun is still out in 1971. The level of technology changes, but not the perspective of the child.

As I approach fifty, it's striking how much I value contact with my folks. Perhaps as we learn to cope with their imperfections, they teach us how to cope with our own. As parents, we're no angels, but we're certainly not satan either.

Are Your Training Wheels Still On?

With a wrench and a bit of elbow grease, our two boys have expanded their world exponentially. The training wheels came off a few weeks ago, and now they're barreling down our steep driveway at breakneck (not literally we hope) speed. I can recall that very same moment of freedom in my own life. Perhaps you can too.

Taking risk is a big part of life, whether you're careening down a slope on two wheels or breaking away from a comfortable job. A quote that inspires me when I'm considering adding more risk to my daily grind comes from the late Arthur Miller.

"One can't forever stand on the shore. At some point, filled with indecision, skepticism, reservation and doubt, you either jump in or concede that life is forever elsewhere."

Watching the smiles of new-found confidence on the faces of Nick and Chris reminds me that reward rarely comes without risk. We can wear helmets and kneepads, but the scrapes and bloody elbows are a part of the bargain. I know what I'll remember of this passage into mobility for my children, are their smiles of joy with the wind in their face. Their confidence inspires me to pursue reward in the face of risk in my own life.

Read This Before Your Next Car Trip With Kids!

I just spent (or survived) 10 hours in the car with my two sons. A greater test of parental love and tolerance, there may not be. Traveling from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to our home in Parker, Colorado brought us 537.8 miles closer. Three lessons I learned for long car rides in the future.

1. If you rely on your spouse to charge the portable DVD player and you know beforehand that he/she won't be joining you in the car, make sure you learn how to accomplish this task yourself.

2. Pack enough snacks so that you can cut down on your drive time. Let your kids choose the snacks, since they'll be the ones eating.

3. Stock the car with music that everyone can sing along to. Like it or not, my kids are into the Beatles (hooray!), Bon Jovi (eh) and AC/DC (sorry, I never "got" them)

My guys are 8 and 10 years old, and we played "Mad Libs" most of the way. It was a great way for them to expand their vocabulary and learn creative ways to insert gross bodily function sounds into conversations. And I finally learned the difference between an adverb and an adjective.

Which Rules to Obey?

I watched a Dad and several youngsters hop into the hot-tub at our gym recently. They dropped their towels right by the sign that reads "No children 12 and under allowed in the hot tub!" Both kids looked to be five or six years old. Being a parent can feel like being under a 24/7 microscope sometimes, and this situation made me think about what we teach our children about rules and the truth.

Telling a "white lie" is accepted as part of navigating society. We cut corners a bit here and there to ease potential rough spots in relationships. What was the father in the hot-tub teaching his kids about rules? Are some "made to be broken" like athletic records? I can't imagine telling my children to obey traffic signals and speed limit signs, while I keep one eye on the road and the other on a radar detector. I can't imagine letting my kids into the hot-tub before they're twelve years old. If they see me flaunt one rule, that will confuse them about which rules can be bent or broken.

That said, I hope that sixty years ago I would have insisted that my boys give up their "front of the bus" seats to an African-American woman, regardless of where on the bus that woman was "supposed" to sit. Some rules were made to be broken I guess. How do you explain to your children when a rule doesn't make sense? Or when a rule, like the hot-tubs at my club, makes sense for some people but not for others?

Mom's Day

I'll admit it, sometimes I take for granted all that my wife puts up with from three boys. The uneven hairlines, the temper tantrums and the dirty clothes left to molder on the bedroom floor. And then she has to put with our two sons as well. Mothers deserve more than a "day" in my opinion, and I'm not sure a month or season or entire year is enough to salute all they do for us.

Here are a few of the roles I salute mothers (including my own) for fulfilling, above and beyond the call of duty.

Traffic Cop: Policing disputes about baseball cap ownership and whose turn it is to go first.

Cabbie: Ferrying kids to and from baseball, swim lessons, soccer games, guitar/cello/drum/bass/recorder/digeridoo lessons and more.

Doctor: Patching wounded knees and feelings, always knowing when a neck rub and a kiss is needed most.

Mom: The most underappreciated and underpaid job in the world. Although those with experience in this area tell me that the fringe benefits beat any paycheck, any day.

Happy Mother's Day to all, including my favorite Mom, Joan. Remember, only 42 shopping days left until Father's Day!

Aloha Spirit Means Heart-ful Fathering

Our planned 6-day family vacation in paradise turned into a week and a half of emergency room visits and hospital stays. Hawaii never looked so lovely I'm sure, I just wish we'd seen more of it through a windshield and less of it from room 410 of the North Hawaii Community Hospital http://www.northhawaiicommunityhospital.org/

As I watched the nurses and doctors, the paramedics and even the staff of our hotel react to our health issues, I was struck by how much sincere caring everyone displayed. Both of our sons were sick with salmonella, and two stressed-out parents are not the easiest people in the world to deal with. The health professionals always had a smile, timely information and words of assurance when we needed them. Our hotel staff (the Hilton at Waikoloa) extended our room indefintly and slashed the room rate to one-third of what we'd booked at. Friends from United Airlines were proactive in re-booking our flights several times, and made sure we were seated right next to the lavatories (critical!) on the seven-hour trip home.

All this has me thinking about what I would refer to as "Aloha Fatherhood". As parents, we can choose to lead with our brain or our heart. If I had to choose between the two, I'd hope that my heart would provide the guidance and wisdom necessary to bring up children with good brains.

Kids and Ethics

Each day's headlines bring news of leaders in the church, community and business who have made moral missteps. I do believe that all of us can trip into the ethical abyss from time to time. It's what you do once you're there, and how you recover, that is the measure of the man and father.

A football player from Cleveland was recently arrested at an airport security gate. Shaun Rogers was trying to bring a carry-on bag with a loaded and cocked gun, into a secure area and onto a plane. He says now that he didn't know the gun was in his possession. Sorry, this falls into categories of both supreme stupidity and casual arrogance.

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=5058703&campaign=rss&source=ESPNHeadlines

Professional athletes may not be role models, as basketball player Charles Barkley once said, but they are public figures. When an athlete complains about the scrutiny they're under, I wish they'd remember that they could have easily been police officers, accountants or Subway sandwich shop managers. Athletes choose their line of work, as do we all. Some in the media point out with a bit of validity that the "regular" people like us aren't hauled before kleig lights and cameras every time we commit an offense. I can't help think that us "regular" people also can't afford high priced attorneys, nor can we schedule our jail time around spring training or the NFL season.

I wish just once (Tiger, Shaun, Alex, Roger, anyone?) someone in the spotlight would 'fess up to their misdeeds before they're caught. Now that would be news!

Logic Wins Out Over Rules

Like the Allies and German forces, huddled in trenches awaiting the whistle to go "up and over" for some penultimate WWI battle, the boys and I used to gird for the nightly trauma over baths, pj's and bedtime. When they were 4 or 5 years old, this ritual became a power struggle of epic proportions. As the boys have gotten older and I have matured, the scene plays out with far less intensity. We're all thankful for that.

My wife Terry used to counsel me "pick your battles" when I'd come downstairs from the boys' bedroom after those fights. My face would be red, jaw clenched and the last thing I could think about was a relaxing night's sleep for myself. When I was a kid, bed-time was clearly defined, "lights out" meant exactly that, and very few breaches of protocol were allowed! I thought that was how it had to be.

What I've been reminded of recently is that all us parents are imperfect, and we're all free to set our own rules. My folks learned from their folks, who learned from their folks, and so on back to the Shtetl and ghetto of Eastern Europe. That doesn't mean I have to be a carbon copy of my father. He certainly wasn't a carbon copy of his Dad.*

As I let go of my kids and encourage them to be independent and seek their own way in life, I realize that I can't control them, only influence them. So Nick wears a t-shirt to bed. So Chris stays up late reading. We all get a good night's sleep in the end.

*For the uninitiated, "Carbon Copy" refers to the carbon paper you used to slip between sheets in a typewriter. This is how we made copies in the mid-20th Century. If you have to ask what a typewriter was...I can't help you.

Leprechauns

Whoops. My wife is out of town and she usually facilitates the arrival of leprechauns at our house for St. Patty's Day. This time, the imps were not only late, but failed to measure up to our sons' expectations. They left green sparkly liquid in both the bathroom sink and toilet. No Lucky Charms cereal, no green milk, cupcakes or cookies.

When 8 year-old Christopher came down the stairs this morning, he plaintively wailed that this was absolutely "The Worst Saint Patricks Day Ever!" I came "this close" to revealing the leprechaun's true identity, but I held my tongue. In that split second, I realized that his ability to still believe in Santa, Leprechauns and the Easter Bunny is a character strength I truly admire.

What do you believe in that you can't prove?

Safety and Change; Teach Your Children Well

There was a "lock down" drill at my 4th grade son's school today. I hate that our kids are growing up in a climate of fear, where dis-trust comes before trust. Life seemed simpler and less dangerous two generations ago when I was growing up, and yet when I reflect a bit deeper, it seems that times haven't changed as much as many of us think they have.

The late 60's and early 70's were times of dramatic social challenges. I can recall "duck and cover" drills at my elementary school. I didn't realize that these were to protect (as much protection as a school hallway can provide) us from Russian nuclear devices. I was convinced that the North Vietnamese would be invading Penfield, New York any day.

How do you create a safe environment for your children? How do you ensure that they feel free to experiment and test their limits, without pushing beyond the edge into reckless behavior?

Explaining the Unexplainable; School Shootings

We had another school shooting here in Denver this week. Memories of the Columbine nightmare lie just below the surface in this part of the country, even eleven years later. Thankfully, the two middle-schoolers who were wounded are expected to recover from their injuries. I can't begin to fathom what goes through a deranged person's mind when they set out to harm kids, or anyone for that matter. Regardless of where you stand on the issue of gun rights and the place of firearms in today's society, how you talk to children about tragedies like this is intimidating.

With our two boys, I try to be candid without being alarming. Bad things happen to good people and that's a part of this world I'd like to protect them from. I know these truths; (1) I can't protect them forever, and (2) keeping them from reality wouldn't serve them well in the long run.

The basic tenets of fatherhood are the best guide when you're faced with explaining the unexplainable to your kids. Be honest and ask lots of questions to understand how they're feeling. Remember that kids own their emotions just like adults do. What they feel and believe is real to them, and it's never a father's place to try and convince a child to feel differently.

Dads, Humanity and OJ

Watching the Olympics brings back memories of my own athletic dreams. In my early teens, like most boys I guess, being a "jock" was the height of cool. I didn't know then that football players wore shoulder pads. I spent one autumn walking around with my shoulders hunched up, trying to imitate my heros on the field. In my Buffalo Bills' #32 jersey, I tried to emulate my then-hero OJ Simpson.

Wow, how a few decades and an internationally televised ride in a Ford Bronco can change your perspective. My parents have an artful collage of family pictures in their hallway. Right there in the middle is yours truly, hair down to my shoulders in that jersey celebrating OJ. That may be the only photo celebrating his deeds (on the field) in the world.

I tend to agree with the retired basketball player Charles Barkley. He riled many parents a few years ago by declaring he wasn't out to be any child's hero. Worshipping anyone beyond your circle of family and friends can be fraught with danger. The idols on a poster are far too fallible and their transgressions get played out in the national media. Babe Ruth had his faults and demons, but his fans didn't have ESPN to update them on the hour.

As Dads, we showcase our humanity on a daily basis. Falling from grace in our children's eyes can happen quickly, but we also don't have to wait for the next news cycle to explain our faults to teach (and learn) from them.

Handling Fatherhood Stress!

I'd last about three days as a single parent. Okay, make that seven days. That's how long my wife was gone on her most recent trip, leaving me to fend for (and off) the boys on my own. For those of you who shoulder solo parenting full-time, I could not have more respect.

Parenting is about rising to the occasion. Resiliency as a parent means being prepared for as much as you can, and being flexible when the un-expected occurs. Here are the things I try to remember when fatherhood takes on added stress.

1. Re-think priorities. If the kids are clean, fed and happy, that's enough until you reach a place of relative calm.
2. Be kind to yourself. Whether your guilty pleasure is soaking in a warm bath or having a sitter take over for an afternoon, be selfish in the short term to be your best in the long term.
3. Give the kids more autonomy, not less. This sounds like the exact opposite of what you should do, but hear me out. My sons rise to the occasion, much like I hope I do. They're eight and nine years old. What a joy it is to hear their laughter and witness the creativity when I say "Guys, dinner is on your own this evening!" Yes, we eat a lot of peanut butter and jelly, and the kitchen counter is sticky for days. It's well worth the price for one evening where I'm not cogitating on how to prepare pasta in new and exciting ways.

A mentor told me once that parenting "isn't rocket science". That's true. It took the USA a dedicated decade to put men on the moon. We're still working on the art and science of parenting, and we will be far into the future. What you're doing as a Dad is far more difficult than any far-flung other-worldy endeavor.

Way to go Pop!

My Son's Reality Show

Young love sounds as confusing as old love. Nine-year old Nick gave me a primer on this last night as he recounted in hushed tones the amorous adventures of his fellow travellers in the fourth grade. It turns out that Max is in love with Miranda, Alexa has her eye on Tommy, and while Levi likes Annabelle, he does not "like like" her and hence she is fair game for the intentions of Blake. At least, that's how I recall the conversation twenty-four hours later. Of course, all names have been changed to protect the young and innocent.

As an adult it's easy to look back on your childhood as a simpler time in life. Perhaps it was a simpler time but that doesn't mean it was without complexity. I look at Nick's homework some nights and find myself truly baffled. I can answer the math questions, but the lessons of how to arrive at one sum or another have vanished. On the social scene, he's learning how to be an individual, and how to "fit in" all at the same time. I stuttered through phone calls with girls until my college years. He's fielding those same phone calls like a Lothario. I try to remember to pick my battles, whether it's on the length of his hair or the favorite jeans that are now more holes than fabric. Somewhere (the Upper West Side of Manhattan) my parents are chuckling about generational revenge.

Our kids will follow their own path in life. They'll make mistakes, some of the ones we made and are making today, and some brand new mistakes they can truly call their own. As complex as his life is today, Nick will trade 2010's complications for those of 2030 and beyond. I'll try to protect him from the inevitable hurts, and hope he learns from his forays into the complex world of reality.

What's Your Comfort Food?

I can feel the lump in my stomach. Hours after an invigorating workout with weights and cardio combined, I've just submarined my fitness efforts with a two-hotdog lunch. The warm buns, mustard (and ketchup) remind me of skipping school for the cheap seats and baseball's opening day, making sure to evade my father who was sitting in the box seats! Cold and cloudy days like today remind me of growing up in Western New York. According to NOAA, Denver (my home today) averages nearly seven of every ten days with sunshine. Rochester, where I grew up, has one sunny day for every one with clouds, 51% days with sunshine to be exact.

I'm not blaming the hotdogs on my upbringing, convenient though that would be. But that lump got me thinking about our "comfort" foods. Are they regional? Do they help us make a link (hotdogs, "link", get it?) to our childhood? Do we choose them, or do they choose us? Mine are the aforementioned frankfurters, along with mac 'n' cheese, chocolate ice cream and my mother's pot roast. Had I chosen them, I like to think I would have chosen more wisely. Broccoli anyone?

I hope my kids will be comforted by many things as they grow older. Perhaps the scent of a cologne, or their mom's homemade burritos. With a nod to the 21st century, it might be the nearly imperceptible hum of their Nintendo toys or laptop. As odd as it sounds, one of the most comforting reminders in my life is the smell of a slightly mildewed garage. That takes me back to my maternal grandparents and their home in Muncie, Indiana. Once in awhile, that same smell visits in our own garage. Some 40 years later and I'm right back playing in the front yard with my little plastic toy soldiers.

The things that comfort us probably choose us, not the other way around. Memories, like hotdogs, are probably best when they are mixed infrequently with our present, and our future.

As Ricky said to Lucy, we Dads "Got a lotta 'splainin to do!"

Between Tiger Woods and his fooling around and Mark McGwire with his steroid usage admissions, my kids are asking some pretty tough questions. How do you explain to an 8-year old what infidelity is? Or why a professional athlete chooses to cheat? With the latter, it's been tougher to explain his media blitz "explanation parade" than it has to explain why he wanted bigger muscles.

All this reminds me of my favorite quote about truth and self-deception. I wish I recalled the source, but the essence is "Character is who you are when no-one is watching." Don't you love the simplicity of that? Whether we choose to cheat on our spouse or flick a cigarette butt out the car window, we exercise what my son Chris refers to as "free will."

An athlete may decide to blame the era in which he played, or the pressure of performing in front of millions of fans. In the end (pun intended) he only has himself to blame for injecting performance-enhancing drugs. I have no doubt that Tiger Woods feels tremendous pressure on and off the golf course, but we've learned more about his character in the last month than from any putt he's ever made.

Whether you're in the middle of a crowded arena or alone in the car with your thoughts, you are constantly acting on your free will. The character you display is truly the measure of the man you are.

I feel like the groundhog on February 2nd. All I want to do is pop my head out of my den to see if the loud noises and fireworks are over. Then some stranger comes along and yanks me out, naked, for all the world to see.

Okay, leaving the holidays behind and getting back into a routine isn't quite as startling as Groundhog Day must be for Punksatawny Phil. Still, my first full day of work in the New Year felt like "back to reality" day. I noticed this with my sons as well. Both boys return from their school day lately with a glazed look in their eyes, nodding off into their dinner and barely staying awake until bedtime.

When the days are short, and cold, as they are here in Denver, it's easy to fall into hibernation mode. All you want to do is make it from sunrise to sunset, and then back to bed. As a Dad, the challenge is to keep yourself from turning into a sleep-addled zombie. Now is the time to throw your habits a curveball. Here are three ideas:

1. Have the kids make dinner for you. As the restaurant chain slogan goes, "no rules, just right". See what they come up with!

2. Change your workouts. Lift weights? Take an aerobics class! Run in the mornings? Go the local rec center and see how many laps you can swim.

3. Complete a genuine act of self-less gratitude for your spouse or partner. A card tucked under their pillow, flowers, a gift certificate or a simple hug and sincere "I love you" will do wonders for them and for you.

Think of it this way. In the darkest days of winter here in the Northern Hemisphere, our friends in the south are sweating out the dog days of summer. Making small changes in your behavior and being alert to the needs of others gets you focused on something besides yourself.